


Un-birthday

by LaMalefix



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Immortal Alec Lightwood, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: And of course, he would never want to spend the last hours of his birthday in Idris, not that it’s important, is birthday. He doesn’t need presents, not someone like him who can have almost everything, who has everything within easy reach, just a snapshot away. And then he has everything he wants, or anything that he has never even had the courage to desire. He has two wonderful kids and he will have Alexander Lightwood for the rest of his eternity. And he can’t ask for more. And everyday can be important, and must be joyous with or without any special occasion.





	Un-birthday

 

>  
> 
> ####  **Un-birthday**  
>  [ _noun_ ]  
>  Statistics prove that you have one birthday, just one birthday every year. But there are three hundred and sixty-four unbirthdays. And this is a reason to gather and cheer.
> 
>   

 

 

 

 

 

 

A bleak silence. This is what welcomes him when he finally returns home, after three days of uninterrupted meetings at the Labyrinth.

Magnus is accustomed to silence, he had to get used, in the course of his never-ending life, to long moments of silence, on which he swallowed cocktails with the strong taking of heavy drinkers, or in which he organized noisy and colourful parties for his cats, _to keep his mind off_ , but he has become used to living with this particular kind of silence. Because the silence of a usually inhabited, but provisionally empty, house is different from the silence that has accompanied him for so long.

Of course, now the boys are all grown up, and the house is clearly quieter than when they were small: Max, in his moments of magical tantrums, as they used to call them, tended to make the situation more eventful and loud; and Rafael always so interested in music that, at some point in his adolescence, to have some silence, it was necessary for the two of them to emigrate for more than a weekend. Alec instead has always been quiet, even when playing with the boys, or now, when cooking he can be heard mulling softly because, even after all these years, his famous stew isn’t good at all, and Magnus occasionally ponders if it is some inclination due to his profession or is mostly his character.

But now, yes, there’s only a bleak silence. And not because the boys have discovered the gift of silence, even if it would be a good thing, but simply because they are all out. The boys went together with their cousins in a boring diplomatic mission in this village lost in the middle of Cordillera de los Andes and won’t return before Christmas, and Alec is forced to something as boring at Idris, something that has to do with the Council or what it is. Something boring, simply and plain.

Not that he had this incredible adventure at the Spiral Labyrinth, three days of a kind of meeting somewhere between something political and something social that almost forced him to shot his own forehead with a spell. At one point, he seemed to feel something, among other things, something that made his head spin for a moment, and that made the levels of his magic drop considerably. Maybe it was boredom, indeed, _certainly_ it was boredom.

And so maybe he was hoping to find someone in his house, and not because now the last few hours of his birthday are flying, he never cared a bit of his birthday, it’s just a way like any other to celebrate the family, like any other day, but to be with someone else who maybe doesn’t rebuff him of socio-political and not so progressive ideas.

And maybe he should really put on some tea and carry on with the work for his clients, he will have about fifty love filters to prepare and deliver before Christmas, better to get to work.

Sage, myrtle, bay leaf, rose, pepper, camphor, cinnamon, mint, poppy, pine needles, resin, rosemary, thyme. And a few drops of that water from that spring scattered around the Urals mountains.

Mixing and stirring, while with a hand he’s browsing that book that he had to leave halfway a little time ago and that he had forgotten he hadn’t finished, some silly romance novel, nothing special or morally engaged, and from time to time he leaves the ladle in the cauldron to take a sip of his herbal tea.

Of course, he expected something more exciting for his evening, not that he wanted Alec around the house with only a rosette to cover his family jewels, but also a game of Risiko with Simon would have been more exciting than a love filter that bubbles in the pot.

And maybe a little part of him hopes that his noisy Shadowhunters-enlarged-family will burst like maddened elephants in his living room, so just to have a minimum of action, after all this politics that he had to swallow. And just as he thinks, while he is stirring and mixing in his pot the strange mixture perhaps a bit too soupy, and observes the aromatic smoke that begins to draw volute right before his eyes, here it is the moment when _the shiver_ climbs his back.

And it’s like a dream, and in that dream, he finds himself at the centre of a town he knows. He can feel his feet sinking into the snow, while slowly arranging a strange weight on his shoulders. He recognizes that place, the place of his strange dream. The statue of the Angel, so horribly tawdry, that seems to judge him as he passes by. The buildings seem to fade in his field of vision, while the road that runs towards the horizon is swept by the wind. It’s dark, and there is only the cold and shaky witchlights to illuminate his path. And he seems to look around calmly, to make sure that he is in the right place, and he adjusts that weight on his shoulders. The sky is white, cloudy. It’s clearly threatening to snow, annoyingly stinging his cheeks and probably before daybreak will do so. And there is already a lot of snow around, everything has lost the colour varieties already not particularly present in that town, houses, streets, clouds, it’s all white, and only the witchlights and the shadows that stretch in their opposition allow to distinguish among one and another the elements of that landscape. In the utter silence, the moan of the wind that comes from the forest rises, or perhaps it comes from the mountains that surround and protect the town, lashed by cutting the unobstructed road, certainly the few inhabitants are resting. He examines carefully what he sees before him, until he moves a step, towards a building that suddenly enters his field of vision, studies it for a moment and then raises his hand.

And Magnus finally recognizes the rune on the pale skin of that hand.

And a light chill climbs over his back and forces him to focus again on his potion that murmurs in the cauldron boiling. A strange sensation starts from his belly and climbs inside him, leaving like a strip of fire in his heart. And there is something, something that hurts him weirdly and that he can’t really describe. Something must have happened to Alec. And maybe even that perception that he had at the Spiral Labyrinth is due to something similar, but it doesn’t make sense, Alec is certainly in the safest place for the Shadowhunters, in fact, he’s probably already snoring. Maybe he’s just having a nightmare, or reliving some unpleasant memories.

But certainly he should check on him, and go to the Institute to ask for information from his noisy parabatai. And just as he is pondering this hypothesis, someone knocks on the door. And it doesn’t take long to understand that there is Jace, and that he too knows something is going on.

And he moves his hand to open the door and Jace bursts into his house with a breathless air. Angelic blood or not, running like that will kill him sooner or later, now that he begins to show the age he has, and the slight puffs of gray hair have appeared to mark his temples and, let’s say that his forehead is getting higher, even if Magnus doesn’t do anything to avoid calling him “baldy” from time to time.

“Something happened,” he says as soon as he crosses the threshold of his house.

Magnus swallows, the alarmed tone doesn’t bode well. Because the bond between Jace and Alec is very different from what Magnus has: with that ritual they carried out a few years ago, Magnus gave him a fragment of his soul, an ancient and very forbidden trick of some ancient Warlocks fallen into oblivion. But it’s something that allows Alec not to have a fixed deadline for his life, to live until Magnus will have life and maybe even something more. And there are no side effects except these strange altered perceptions when something terribly impacting is happening. Like a little while ago.

“What did you feel?” Magnus asks and makes a small movement of his hand to suspend the potion and let it disappear somewhere, he will work on it later.

“I feel he is not in his best shape,” he murmurs. “I can’t decipher if physically or emotionally...”.

With the ritual, Alec’s angelic abilities haven’t been affected, not even the parabatai bond, fortunately, so he can remain who he is even though he now has this extra thing. He has a piece of Magnus’ soul always with him, something that can’t be seen, but it is always there. And if it weren’t that Alec stopped growing old after the ritual, even if he seems to be a bit rejuvenated while Magnus shows a few more years on his face, like their age gathered halfway, it wouldn’t seem to have changed anything else in their life.

“Wasn’t he being entangled in some boring meetings in Idris?” Magnus mumbles. “Because I saw something but... I can’t explain it... maybe it was a dream”.

Jace sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and if it weren’t such a moment, Magnus would remark that doing that he will find himself bald in no time. “He sent a fire message, yesterday... I guess he didn’t want to bother you because you were at the Labyrinth... a recovery mission: a relic, nothing problematic. Since he is in the Council, they decided to send him to deal with diplomatic practices or whatever… let’s put it this way...”.

Magnus observes him, in silence. They are in a moment of peace, a long moment of peace that maybe they deserve. Alec has these monthly meetings in Idris that always take him a couple of days, the boys can travel and learn, before fully consecrating their lives for the protection of the Shadow World. From time to time, there is some demon alarm, but nothing so problematic that a couple of healing runes can’t cure. Recovering a relic de facto is nothing to worry about, actually, but it can become so if there is a horde of demons guarding it.

“What do you think?” Jace asks softly.

“I’m trying to understand.” he sighs. “But firstly I need you to ask the Consul to grant me permission to conjure a portal for Idris,” Magnus whispers, looking at him and then he furrows a brow, pointy and questioning. “Why didn’t you have a portal opened by your dear wife?”.

“She was in a meeting with Maia and Lily, after all these years they still look at me _like_ ─” he sighs.

“You don’t want to start over with the story that they prefer Clary to you?” he snorts, not at all impressed, but continues to look at him trying to hide as much as possible the lightest grin that trembles behind his lips.

“It’s the truth!” Jace huffs “Lily has never made a mystery of preferring Alec and Clary...” he adds shrugging. “I knew you’d be back tonight, so I preferred to come here. A couple of speed runes and...” then looks at him, Magnus still has a curled eyebrow. “What?”.

“It’s that you’re becoming old, and running like crazy around New York it’s a no-go…” he smiles. “Surely Alexander is in no hurry to feel a piece of soul carried away because you die like a cooked pear as you run to come here. Next time call me, I’ll open a portal for you”

“Thanks, eh? Always well-mannered...” Jace snorts . ”And anyway, the same goes for me, I’m still young, I don’t want to lose my parabatai prematurely, especially now that he is immortal and I grow older really slowly. And my hair looks wonderful as always, Magnus... don’t try it!” He replies, flashing a glance of just that enough.

Magnus smiles and makes a scroll appear on the coffee table, where he simmered his potion just a little while ago. “Ask the Consul to grant me access to Idris, and I’m going to check the situation. It doesn’t seem to me that he has serious physical damage, but it’s better to be there... especially if it’s something emotional”.

And Jace sits next to him and watches the parchment for a long time in silence. “Warlocks’ fire messages come to Idris without effort, why should I send it? Above all, it’s pitch dark in Idris right now, maybe the Consul is already in bed... you can go without announcement, you’re Magnus Bane…”.

Magnus clicks his tongue on the arch of his palate. “I need you to do it because you are the Head of the Institute, Jace. And this thing needs to be done in the right way… Although Clary would do a great job anyway even without your incredible support.” he adds weirdly austere. “And no. I guess the Consul is awake. I felt something, something in the seals that I put on Alec... I thought it was a drop of magic, due to the tiredness of my meetings at the Labyrinth _but_ ─” he shakes his head.

And Jace hurries to pull out the stele and begins to write on the scroll. “I felt something too but couldn’t… it was a thing of one moment… and _your seals_?”.

“My seals,” Magnus mumbles in a low voice. “I felt something vibrate, I was too busy to focus on it, to tell the truth. Knowing that Alec wasn’t doing anything dangerous... I really thought it was something due to my tiredness, nothing else... my magic vibrated as if I had used it too much... clearly the seals that I have placed on Alec have tried to... stem a possible damage, and yes, it was a matter of a moment, nothing more…” he murmurs. “Evidently my magic reacted, protected him in some way...otherwise we would have perceived something clearer, right?”.

Jace cuts him a look while the fire rune on the parchment that starts to burn slowly. “How do your seals work?”.

“Since I gave him a piece of me, of my soul... and we both drank that potion...” he begins to sigh. “I have to protect myself and protect Alec. I have put on him seals that are like your runes, a very old trick that allows my magic to act to protect Alec always, wherever he is, no matter how distant we are. And this also plays in your favour, actually, because by extension through the parabatai bond my seals protect you too”.

Jace sighs, and seems to keep the air suspended in the lungs for a long time. “Did you see something, then? Through your bond, I mean. It always happens like that, right? Alec said he began to have this kind of perceptions too...”.

“Yes, clearly it is a side effect of our bond. Anyway, I saw that he was in Alicante, knocking a door, walking... he had something heavy on him... will it be the relic you were saying before?” he mumbles and pulls himself up. “I’m going to get a couple of potions from the pantry and something heavy to wear. It’s very cold at Idris of this period...”.

“Absolutely. Being circled by the Alps...” Jace snorts and then pushes his back into the sofa cushion and pulls a long, long, strangled sigh. “There’s something that hurts him so hard... you don’t feel anything?”.

“It’s never clear whether it is something physical or emotional, with the fact that we are so bound, that a piece of me is with him and a piece of him is with me, it is complicated...” Magnus replies walking around the apartment with his arms full of clothes and potions. “One thing for sure: he didn’t suffer major physical damage, otherwise we would feel it much more clearly, right?” he adds turning around the sofa and making a bag appear and starting to put everything that could be useful.

“That’s for sure,” Jace nods , pulling up the sweater to show the parabatai rune perfectly there in its place and before he could say anything else, a portal opens up, and a piece of inflamed parchment approaches Magnus and he catches it on the fly and he puts it in his pocket.

“I would say it’s the signal...” he replies. “As soon as I see him, I’ll send you a message”.

Jace sighs and stands up. “I will certainly know that you will be with him: there is always this strong wave of positive emotions when he sees you...” he just winks and walks towards the door. “You don’t need a message, I’ll just feel that he’s fine”.

And Magnus waits a moment for the door to close behind the still sufficiently blond Head of the Institute, before slipping into the portal.

 

* * *

 

 

Alicante is icy, freezing cold like few other cities in the world, and Magnus has visited hundreds of thousands. In one of the many excursions that Catarina and Ragnor had forced him to do, in too distant times, he has visited terribly cold cities, even much closer to the pole than Alicante, but perhaps it is its being a stronghold in the mountains, a tiny invisible spot on the map; or maybe it’s  the river, the lake and the forest from which it’s channelled the icy wind that comes from the mountains; and those buildings with an ancient stone-y flavour, make it certainly not a warm or welcoming place. Or, at least, for Magnus it isn’t a welcoming place, but he may be biased.

The portal hasn’t brought him anywhere but in the main square of the city. The one where we saw the Angel’s statue, walking in Alexander’s footsteps in his strange dreamy perception.

The fire message, which strangely wasn’t addressed to Jace but to Magnus himself, recites short words, and it is signed by the Consul himself. There is no information except the chance to stay in Idris for a couple of days, and a recommendation to take care of Alexander Lightwood.

And perhaps this should be a wake-up call, but Magnus decides to ignore it.

The sky is white and promises snow, the moon is sinking behind the mountain peaks, dyeing the celestial cloak of an opalescent light. The stars look like spikes that are reflected on a frozen lake, far away and hidden by all that candour.

And of course, he would never want to spend the last hours of his birthday in Idris, not that it’s important, is birthday. He doesn’t need presents, not someone like him who can have almost everything, who has everything within easy reach, just a snapshot away. And then he has everything he wants, or anything that he has never even had the courage to desire. He has two wonderful kids and he will have Alexander Lightwood for the rest of his eternity. And he can’t ask for more. And everyday can be important, and must be joyous with or without any special occasion.

And maybe even staying in Idris one evening, which is already December 9th, may not be so terrible.

He knows the way, the paths he must travel to get to what Magnus likes to call Alec’s bachelor pied-à-terre, which the Shadowhunter has had to occupy as a member of the Council, not to go to Trueblood manor or the old Lightwoods residence. Both horribly huge and empty.

It is in a secondary street, a tiny house full of weapons, books and trunks full of other weapons and books, and perhaps it deserves a little more care. Magnus tried to make it more habitable, more comfortable, tried to make it look like a home: in some awkward attempts to make the environment less spartan, he brought pillows, some blankets, he also arranged some curtains, he conjured a wood stove and some armchairs, he embellished a little the bathroom. But in the end, it’s clearly not a home, that, but rather a temporary arrangement.

It’s not surprising to see that in the fresh snow there are still signs of certain heavy booth tracks, which lead right to those steps. The light on the ground floor of the house is on. Which means that he won’t wake him if he knocks on the door.

And now he feels it, the warmth of that bond that ties them, of that sort of ritual that has given both a scar at the heart, to unite the two souls with an ancestral form of union rune, an ancient design perhaps of demonic origin, but certainly powerful.

And he loses his breath as he climbs those three steps that separate him from Alec, as he raises his hand to knock on the door and ask permission to enter. Because he, Alexander Lightwood, does this to his heart, even after twenty years of cohabitation, even after having raised two wonderful boys, even after hundreds of battles, of wounds, of burned meat, of small bickering, Alec always is that for him. His heart trembles in his chest. And it’s one of the best feeling in the world.

When Alec opens the door his eyes are low. And maybe he doesn’t even realize that Magnus is there.

The bond on Alec works oddly, perhaps because he is also linked to Jace, so he has double perceptions, and double confusion.

He looks tired, terribly tired. And for a moment he looks old, of an impossible old age: he has a long beard with dishevelled hair and his face, his neck and his hands are stained with blood. The clothes are worn out. And perhaps he was trying to figure out what to do, whether to throw them directly into the fire or try to wash them, before Magnus knocked.

And he seems puzzled, for a moment when he looks up and meets the kind smile that Magnus gives him.

His eyes, bloody, red, marked by these heavy dark circles, seem to dilate just as he sketched a faint half-smile. “What are you doing here?”.

And that question comes out a little choked, the tone seems to be that of those begging, pleading, and he seems even more tired now that he has spoken to him.

Magnus does everything to avoid being overwhelmed by emotions, because he feels what travel inside Alec, mixed with his own feelings. He just smiles as warmly as possible and extends his hand to pick up his face, and stroke a thumb on his cheek before speaking. ”Obviously I’m here to pamper you, Alexander Lightwood, do you want a kiss?”.

“It’s Lightwood-Bane,” he replies, moving just a bit to let him in. “I’d hug you Magnus, but... I’m filthy”.

And Magnus decides not to feel too annoyed by that missed kiss: he wouldn’t need their bond to notice that Alec isn’t in his best shape. “Oh, so it’s really good that I’m a very powerful Warlock and I can make sure that my clothes and yours don’t get ruined” he replies, closing the door behind him.

Alec passes a hand through his hair and seems to be pondering what to do first on one leg and then on the other.

The house around them seems to be a battlefield. Weapons still dirty resting on the first trunk available. The shoes still covered with snow near the entrance, the jacket that perhaps he wore before, is all torn and battered balled up near the wood stove. There is the lively crackling of the fire, a young fire maybe just lit with a rune, and the house is incredibly hot even though Alec has been out for at least the whole day.

Magnus hastens to take off his jacket, and he feels Alec’s eyes weigh on him, as if he wants to look at him through or inside his soul.

“How did it go to... to the Labyrinth?” he asks quietly, and it almost seems like a whisper.

And Magnus turns around as soon as he has managed to hang his coat and scarf on a hook behind the door. He smiles at him. He doesn’t need words, he doesn’t even need to spread his arms and call him to his chest with a more explicit gesture. Alec is on him in an instant. And he hugs him so strongly, as if he wanted to embed on him. And Magnus sinks his face under his neck to breathe his presence.

The bitter stench of the ichor or the sweet smell of dried blood aren’t enough to hide the unmistakable fragrance of Alec, which tastes a little bit of home and a bit of love, maybe even a little bit of sex to be honest.

Alec hugs him with his right arm, strongly as if he wanted to break his bones. The thin layer of unkempt beard tickles the soft skin beneath the neck, while the Shadowhunter inhales the Magnus’ scent. In a gesture almost mirroring what Magnus did a while ago, sinking his face under his neck.

And then suddenly it seems to weigh more on him, as if he had abandoned himself to exhaustion there, on his feet.

“Alexander, my love?” Magnus whispers softly, stroking his back gently. “What do you say if you go with me to the bathroom and I wash away all this crap you’re wearing?” he asks.

Alec straightens up against him and nods, sighing slightly and backs up the stairs. Magnus precedes him and takes his hand and guides him up the steps, climbing upstairs.

The bedroom, with a mattress resting on these thick wooden slabs, has remained untouched, there is no smell of ichor or blood, although there is no wall to divide the first from the second floor, there is only this little balcony on which the bed is placed, a bookcase built into the wall, a single-door wardrobe, which Magnus tried to enlarge but there was no way, another trunk and then there is the door of the little bathroom.

Magnus would make him sit on the bed, or perhaps on the trunk to begin to undress him, but decides to hurry and enter the bathroom and use his magic to evoke a tub full of water and soap, with the best relaxing essential oils he knows. He also brought potions specially to make this passage as smooth as possible for Alec.

His Shadowhunter followed him by taking small steps, perhaps a little laboriously. Certainly he is very tired, and perhaps something heavy has fallen on him, maybe he is suffering, but Magnus can’t understand what, maybe Alec can’t even find the words. He will open up, he always does it with him, Magnus just has to give him the right time.

So Magnus moves his wrist again to summon a small stool, on which he’ll sit Alec down. First he will clean the blood off with a sponge and then plunge him into hot water when he’ll be already sufficiently clean.

“Come,” he calls him softly and offers his hand.

Alec closes the door behind him, as if someone could interrupt them and picks up Magnus’ hand with his fingertips.

Magnus reduces the small space between their bodies and hugs him softly by his waist before putting his hands on Alec’s belt and undoing it, letting it fall to the ground without much qualms. He unbuttons his trousers and gently pulls them off. The blood and the ichor went through the thick fabric and stained the pale skin of the thighs. Magnus gently caresses the profile of a rune, whatever its name is, inside his right thigh, and looks at him in the eyes, smiling slowly.

He doesn’t seem to have serious damage on him. The blood doesn’t seem to be his. And, mentally Magnus thanks heaven, the Angels or whatever, because that blood is so much and someone could be dead.

_Ah._

So, this is it.

Magnus picks up his face with his hands and guides him to his to place a light soft kiss on his lips. Alec sighs as soon as they break off. And it seems so dejected, so tired, so... _broken_.

“Sit down, come on.” Magnus smiles and the Shadowhunter executes the order without saying a word. “Let’s get rid of this battered shirt. As soon as you go back to New York, I’ll take you to buy a whole wardrobe of black T-shirts,” he adds, trying to sound as jolly and cheerful as possible.

But Alec stays there, silent, his eyes lost somewhere.

So Magnus moves to retrieve the hem of the shirt between his fingers and moves very slowly, in the most delicate and slow movement that he can measure. Alec seems to grind his teeth for a moment. And when Magnus finally frees him from that fabric full of blood and ichor, he sees it. The huge sign of a nail that is already half-healed that comes just above his left pectoral, not counting the purple bruises at various points in the torso, on the side there is a rather large stain. Here’s what activated Magnus’ seals. It looks like something deep, that wound in particular, and maybe it will leave its mark even after all the magic and all the healing runes.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says a little monotonously. “I feel nothing”.

Magnus presses his lips and does everything to ignore that sign, to pretend that no, it doesn’t hurt. To convince himself. Then, he call his magic and place his hand on the other sign, the remnant of the ritual, that kind of burnt scar that has Magnus on his chest too, at the very same place. And so he channels the magic on that sign, through that burnt scar, letting it flow into Alec slowly, gently. The wound on the shoulder begins to cicatrize, closing, leaving only a large red mark. 

Two inches down and they wouldn’t be there to breathe in the total silence and intimacy of that small bathroom. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, when the wound finally looks like nothing but another mark on his skin, the bruises will disappear over time, he will have to rest a little and they will reabsorb, his magic has acted on the biggest damage. 

He will be fine.

A long deep sigh escapes his lips before Magnus continues to speak. ”It’s nothing. It will still hurt you for a while, there was some damage to the tendons but...”.

“It will pass.” Alec adds, nodding slowly.

Magnus calls his magic to summon a basin, which he immediately fills with hot water by dipping it directly into the bathtub, and retrieves a cloth to be immersed in it to clean him up completely. The first thing he deals with is his face, he dabbles the blood marks on his cheeks, on his neck, and then descends on that shoulder, with all the delicacy he is capable of. And he hears him draw his breath between his clenched teeth.

Alec lets him do everything, slowly, sometimes Magnus feels his eyes burning at him, through him, but he doesn’t say a word. And if he didn’t feel Alec breathing so heavily, yet so dimly, he might think he was cleaning up some kind of statue.

He arrives at his side and lets his fingers slide over the still rather large bruise. And he just looks at him, before slipping a finger into the elastic of the boxers and pulling them away, having cleaned his thighs and knees from the blood. Then he moves to clean his back, to erase those traces that are even more present there. He has a few small bruises under the blood and dirt and ichor encrustations, but nothing more serious. And Alec is there and his back full of runes and scars of old battles, it seems incredibly small, while Magnus cleans it up. 

It seems immensely fragile.

And when he turns around and returns to look at him, for a moment Alec seems empty, broken, until he meets his gaze and smiles a little shyly, a little awkwardly. He still has red eyes, a bit swollen. Magnus collects his face in his hands and blows a kiss on his forehead.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, Magnus allows the basin and the cloth to disappear somewhere. ”Come,” he then says, holding out his hand.

“It wasn’t necessary for you to come here, you know... it’s cold in Idris and...” he murmurs, almost in a whisper, as he lets himself be guided towards the bathtub.

And Magnus looks at him a little confused, but he doesn’t say anything.

“But thank you for coming. I really needed to see you,” he adds before plunging into the water.

“Always, my love.” He replies smiling, and approaches to kiss his temple. And maybe his voice is a bit croaked.

And he retrieves the stool on which Alec was sitting and sits near the tub, strokes his hair and bathes it slowly, collecting a little water in the palm of his hand. 

And he seems so destroyed so tired, so devastated. But for a moment he closes his eyes and seems satisfied with this arrangement, with this hot bath.

But then he takes a long, strangled sigh, and that for Magnus is the signal.

He tightens his lips. ”Do you want to talk to me?”.

And Alec looks at him as if he had said a heresy. “What?” he asks very softly.

“Of the attack, of those who hurt you... Of what made your eyes redden so much...” he murmurs, cupping his cheek, and stroking the top of it with his thumb. “Or we can talk about how long and boring my meeting was. I can also talk to you about the video with kittens I saw before, while I was making tea...”.

Alec smiles and snuggles his head to indulge in the caress better. “They’d have been lovely, I guess”.

“Alexander... I feel you’re hurting. And even without feeling it... I see you” he whispers.

And Alec sighs. ”He’s dead, Magnus,” he murmurs.

“Who?” he asks again.

“A kid, he must have been about  Rafael’s age. He was with me... he was with me and two other Shadowhunters in a...” he sighs shaking his head. “A recovery mission, and instead it was an ambush”.

And Magnus takes a long breath. “Alexander…”.

“I probably would have died too, if I were not... if you hadn’t covered me with seals, and that could have killed you too… _God_.” he adds, his voice choked at the back of his throat. “He was still alive, I tried to open a portal, but... the area was distorted, I don’t know how to explain it, I couldn’t even send a fire message. So I took him and started walking…”.

And Magnus doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what to do. He just moves to his knees to lean a bit closer to him, circling his shoulder with his arm.

“I picked him up, and started walking” he repeats. “He was still alive _and_ ─ _but_ he died asking me to bring his body back to his girlfriend. He asked me to tell her that... that he loved her, that...” he shakes his head and looks at Magnus with those wide bloody red eyes. “She didn’t say a word, when she opened the door for me... I had him all bloody and pale, and dead on my back and… _she didn’t_ ─” and his voice dies at the bottom of his throat.

And Magnus swallows, he could swear to hear the noise of his Adam’s apple moving, gulping, and just stays silent waiting for him to say something else.

Alec sighs again. “She didn’t cry. She didn’t say anything. I had that little boy, on my shoulders. Bloody. Dead.” he repeats and shakes his head. ”And she... she didn’t... didn’t say a word”.

Magnus holds his breath, observes him in silence.

“Why didn’t she cry? Why didn’t she say anything?” he asks, and it sounds like a plead. “How could she do it? I can’t understand it, Magnus...”.

And he sighs and gets a little closer to him, putting a small peck on the side of his mouth. “Everyone suffers in his own way, you know? You Nephilims are warriors, Alexander... this doesn’t mean that you don’t have to cry, but maybe she just wanted privacy, to cry for her lost love without you looking… and you have such a big heart, my love…”.

Alec looks at him, remains silent perhaps longer than expected and opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“Death could come for everyone… that’s why you need to live and celebrate every single day fully.” Magnus says.

And his Shadowhunter looks at him with those big, glassy wide red eyes.

“I will scream,” adds Magnus. “I will cry so hard, I’ll grieve over you… I will tear my hair...” he adds. ”I will suffer until I lose my voice. And maybe I’ll do something stupid... if anything should happen to you”.

“I did not ask you this...” he replies, eyes wide, still a bit ‘shiny.

And Magnus smiles. ”I know. But anyway everyone, everyone suffers differently. And I’ll cry over your loss, shouting that it’s unfair, that I wanted more time” he adds, curling his nose. ”And if anything like this should ever happen to you, if you were to die on a mission, I will shoot up everything, I will destroy the whole world...” he answers and puts his hand on his chest, at the height of his heart over that burnt ancient ritual rune. “I will cry, it will break my heart... because I love you beyond imagination... but that doesn’t mean that the pain of that girl is less than mine, or less than that one that upsets your heart at this moment...”.

And Alec looks at him, and seems to be seized by an unexpected realization.

“I lived very long, Alexander,” he adds. “I know the laws that govern the world, I know people’s hearts because I’ve met so many people... And everyone reacts differently, you... My love, clearly you have a big heart... And she maybe wanted to suffer alone... And that's why we need to celebrate what we have”.

And he nods a bit, sighing and finally resting his back on the rim of the bathtub.

Magnus moves a bit over him and massages his head with the tips of his fingers. And then moves to get up. “Come out, my love, let me dry you up now and then I can prepare a little something to eat and... ” he begins, but Alec pulls him on him and puts an urgent kiss on his lips, burning and wet, excited, necessary, essential.

Magnus sighs, snorts softly when he leaves him reluctantly.

And Alec seems a little more vital, happier now. “Thank you”.

“You don’t have to thank me, you’re the love of my life, Alexander” he replies softly and gets up to retrieve a towel to dry him. ”Come, let me dry you, then I’ll go get you a snack while you set the bed”.

Alec sighs and comes out of the tub in all his Angelic dazzling splendour. ”I don’t want to eat...” .

And Magnus looks at him and smiles a little winking smile and it needs all his good will not to lower his eyes, while Alec is tying  a towel at his waist. ”And what do you want?”.

A very sweet smile is drawn on Alec’s lips.

And it doesn’t take Magnus more than an instant to understand. And he approaches him again and Alec tugs him on his wet chest. And Magnus bends to kiss his wounded shoulder. “Me too,” he says.

And Alec holds out his hand and leads him into the bedroom.

He wants to feel alive. They both want to feel alive.

That’s what they want. 

 

* * *

 

There is a thick, patchwork-like and very colourful and comfortable blanket thrown on the bed. The cushions chosen by Magnus, are soft and of high manufacture, but Alec pushes away everything that is on the bed while pulling Magnus on his chest a little more.

One kiss after another. Increasingly urgent, ever more profound. Meanwhile, Alec’s hands are moving impatiently, trying to remove all those layers of clothes from him.

They touch each other as if they were to break, to crumble, right there, one before the eyes of the other. They are embarrassed under the weight of that immense affection that binds them.

They caress each other with their trembling fingers. They touch each other as if they were never touched, unaware, impatient, yet sweet. It’s always like that, but today it’s different, today it’s much better. Today, there is something else. There is that love that goes beyond, beyond mere sex. There is the desire to confirm that they are alive, that they are happy. That they have all the time in the world in their hands.

That’s why he does things calmly, Magnus. He’s delicate, lets Alec hold onto him, with his right arm, while the left is still clearly sore.

It’s an intimate caress that slowly travels both. Their hands touch each other, their mouths take each other. The caresses are the best part of that moment and perhaps Magnus has always appreciated them more than he has ever wanted to admit. He likes the heat exchange that occurs when those expert warrior’s calloused fingers meet his skin, those caresses joining their two worlds, so different yet so close. They are warm, kind, and seem to activate other levels of his magic.

Magnus loves all this.

Feeling that love in the flesh, under his skin. His senses, all his senses, recognize every single facet of Alexander, every sign on his skin, runes, scars. It’s not just the touch that enjoys their relationship. The taste is satisfied by those sweet kisses, while their tongues run after each other and search one another between their teeth. The nostrils move and welcome that scent that has become acrid only now, only at this moment, it is normally sweetish the smell of Alec skin, bewitching like an ancient incense, but naturally it becomes this way when they are just two of them and they touch as they do now. The sight catches all his minimum trembling, every little expression, every slight smile and every look on his face. And then, it’s the hearing to perceive the faint variations of his breath and those tender moans that rise in intensity and slowly yet irremediably arrive at the climax.

Perhaps, after tact, which for obvious reasons is the one that satisfies him the most, comes the hearing.  

Magnus likes to feel his breath, because he reflects what distorts his body, and blends well with those slight lamentations, with his beautiful moans. The sound that drums in his eardrums enthuses him like crazy, is really the thing he prefers immediately after his caresses, immediately after his looks.

The act itself is only marginal, the preparation and the whole outline is something incredible, because he is with him and it is love what they are doing. It’s not sex. Not only that, at least.  

Magnus pays particular attention to prepare him, always, not to overwhelm Alec. And today he will be meticulous, he will take care of him, because he must feel loved, and alive, and must not suffer, must feel pleasure, just pleasure, and forget everything else.

“Magnus,” he  moans, calling him in a different tone, with that very sweet and hoarse voice, his lips parted, ghosting on his skin. “That’s enough, please... come to me”.

“Just a little bit more, wait.” he murmurs against his face.

“I’m ready. I’m ready. Please”  he repeats slowly, squeezing his eyelids.

He smiles, Magnus, and moves slowly to give him what he asks for.

It is a priceless feeling, feeling him in that way, warm and lively, vibrant. It’s the thing that makes him happier. It’s fulfilling, it’s the best feeling in the world.

They are one thing right now, or better, they are two bodies that are becoming one. And it is perfect this way, their bodies, so different, so little compatible in appearance, for their blood, for their constitution, for the laws the govern their world, are perfect. And draw together the archetype of perfection. They are the yin and the yang, they are two worlds that are united into one.

Slow. It’s slow, he must be slow, Magnus; Alec must get used to it, he must do it gradually because he wants it to be pleasure, only pleasure, to shake him, to distort him, and drive him out.

Alec keeps Magnus head in his hands, looks at him and kisses him constantly, with his breath trembling more and more. He straddles over him, and if he squeezes him between those strong arms, his calloused and tapered fingers massage his hair.

Magnus keeps his Shadowhunter on him, while his hands take care of him. He kisses his neck, slowly, sighs against his pale skin marked by the runes. He moves just a little more, and doing so he takes his breath away. 

Alec’s muscles contract, while a moan escapes from his teeth and Magnus looks at him. He studies him. He stares at him, while he is tense, he contracts all the muscles and stretches the abdomen. He lets his hand run to caress his face to catch his gaze. 

Alec has tears in his eyes.

Magnus stops, at that moment, touches his cheek with the tips of his fingers. “ Did I hurt you?”.

Alec shakes his head, smiles and approaches his face to his. “Keep it going”.

“You’re crying, I hurt you.” Magnus murmurs.

Alec puts a kiss on the edge of his forehead. “No, no.” he smiles. “I’m happy, you make me feel _so_ happy, so alive, _always_ ”.

“Are they tears of joy?” he whispers, incredulous, and feels a slight smile on his lips.

He nods and tightens his arms grasp on Magnus’ neck, and strokes his hair, and kisses his face. “Please, continue.” he mumbles taking his bottom lips between his teeth.  

“Move you, as you wish.” Magnus tugs him a bit closer, counting every single vertebrae of his spine with his fingertips. This is enough to make him shiver, a slight, light caress.  

“You said you were here because you had to pamper me, you do it” whispers Alec shaking his head and rubbing his beard under his neck before returning to look at him.

Magnus stretches, then, kisses his face, slowly, cheeks and lips, and maybe he is hungry, maybe he wants more. His eyes then melt into those of his beloved Shadowhunter. He throws a grim smile and perhaps a little too wise smile. “Hold on to me”.

Alec strokes his shoulders, hugging him tightly, moans, slowly. His breathing is broken, more and more often, continuously. He writhes slightly, his muscles contract, while Magnus caresses her in the intimate, and kisses him more deeply.

He squeezes him a little, tugging him a bit more to his chest, and finally leans forward to let him rest his back against the mattress. And maybe it should be a little more cautious, going easier that certainly Alec tomorrow will go to another stupid meeting. But when he groans more strongly, in that position pleasure comes first, it is as if it were a further invitation. The calloused warrior hands, the tapered fingers climb on him. He strokes his left shoulder before going down to the sign that has Magnus on his chest, the sign of the ritual. His fingers tremble, as his eyes vibrate on him. 

It’s slippery, deep. 

The act itself is only marginal, but God if it is pleasant. And Alec trembles, closes his eyes and pulls back his head, while the muscles of the abdomen support the arching of the back. A slight moan escapes them, more hoarse, more deep. Almost primordial. He moans. He opens his eyes and looks at him, smiling at him.

His eyes sparkle.

And Magnus perhaps lives for this moment, to see that expression take control on his face. And then quickly leaves Alec’s hips to plant his hand in the mattress and reduces the already small space between their bodies, kisses his forehead and smiles.

It is slow, slow and delicate. And he hears him live, Alec, pressed against him, and he feels so alive.

Their gazes are lost in each other, the time they spent together doesn’t count, the days when they were apart don’t count, it is this moment that is worth more, they are together. There is nothing that worth more.

Pleasure rises and scratches their throat. Alec holds him tight, and sticks his nails in his shoulders, his lips tremble in a smile against his neck. He groans, then slowly, and pulls his head back.  

Magnus breathes at him, with that hot breath.  

_It is the moment._

 

* * *

 

 

How long have they been together?

This question is interesting. And Magnus knows the answer, time is relative, it is what his immortality taught him, and, with a little luck, Alec will have enough time to learn it too. Time is relative, and the days don’t make sense, it is not that if the years pass the desire to stay with him decreases. Alexander is necessary for his existence. Essential. And he will always want him. And maybe he _always_ wanted him.

Magnus wakes up, and he is quite content, satisfied to say the least. The indolence of a night spent embraced, the warmth of the blankets and of that warrior nearby. Yes, it’s really good to wake up when he’s still asleep, even if the sun has yet to start rising, and he only slept one hour or two.

He stretches slowly, sluggishly, sighs deeply and yawns slightly. He’s thankful that Alec was able to convince him not to summon a bigger bed, when they set up the ideal pied-à-terre: so he can have one more reason to stay very close to him, to tug him in this sweet sweet embrace. As if he needed a reason more to do so. And besides it’s winter and Alec is a kind of self-propelled radiator, the mysteries of the Nephilim physiology, so yeah this accommodation is more than perfect.

He stretches his hand to look for his love in bed, gently caress the fabric of the sheets and goes up that figure huddled nearby. His skin is hot, and Alec seems to move to accommodate his touch, to snuggle a bit closer.

He gets a little sulky, frowning expression on his face when Magnus moves on his side to look at him better and has to stop caressing him for a second. But then his face returns relaxed, extremely young and perhaps even more beautiful than usual. Now, the worst is over, and the bad thoughts are accumulated outside the room and he can sleep in peace. 

And Magnus begins to stroke him, with his light fingers to avoid waking him, climbing feather-like in his hair, and then he let his hand down to caress his bare shoulder, the skin and the bruises that he was wearing seem to have disappeared.

It’s almost dawn and is so cold. Better to cover him well, agreed that he is a kind of walking heater, but he can always get sick.

And then it’s Alec who moves, stretching his legs and looking for Magnus’ feet, under the covers, and then sneaks closer to him, as if looking for his embrace. And Magnus draws him against his chest , gently strokes his hair and tightens his grip on him, plunging his face under his neck .

Being just at the beginning of winter, it’s very cold and it’s nice nuzzle under the covers like that. And maybe Magnus hasn’t felt so young and alive in a while.

He snorts softly, his lips lost in Alec’s soft and fragrant hair, and just tightens his arm around his waist and breathes in that nice warmth.

Magnus, who is a noisy, eccentric and who can have more or less everything from life, likes this kind of little things. He likes them as simple as this instant, staying in bed with Alec, and would give away everything he has to have this forever.  _Forever_.

Feeling him on himself. Feel his scent. Hear him snoring softly. His taste. His heat.

_Forever._

Alec squeezes slightly to him, moving his head a bit, as if to find a more comfortable position, moans in a low voice and intertwines one Magnus’ legs with his own.

Magnus strokes the hair on the back of Alec’s head as softly as he can, with the tips of his fingers, weakly massaging his neck as if to assure him.

Alec’s fingers move slowly to caress his chest and tighten his grip. And then he smiles, in his sleep. He clings to him, sinks his face against his chest and sighs softly. He grumbles something in a low voice, rubbing his cheek against the warm skin of Magnus’ chest, and Magnus feels him smiling again against his skin, as if something beautiful was going through his dreams.

He watches him sleep for a while, and he actually wants to go back to sleep, but it’s better the show he has now in his arms.

Staying like that, in that sweet warm embrace, he feels happy, and he waits for the dawn that fades the night.

The light that cuts through the window annoys Alec a lot, his eyes are too light coloured. And even if the light is not very strong , this morning, the leaden that enters from the gap between the curtains will wake him up.

Magnus places his hand at his ear and covers his eyes with his fingers. Alec squeezes slightly more to him, stroking his chest with his nose and his chin. He shrugs and sighs softly.

In the end, he will have slept a little over three hours. And perhaps the grunt that rises from his lips, is a protest against his biological clock.

“Sleep, it’s early,” Magnus tells him very softly, the lips at the edge of his forehead.

“Today...” he begins to say. ”I forgot your birthday,” he grumbles half-heartedly, the words slur on his tongue for the sleep.

Magnus smiles, kisses his hair. “It isn’t important, you’ll understand someday what it means to be immortal, and you will also understand that a birthday is a day like any other, my love”.

Alec shifts his head, looks at him in silence and seems a bit annoyed.

They have talked numerous times about what immortality means. That for them was a fortuitous choice, a fortune because they can be together, but it also means a conviction. A life sentence, to see the people  you love shrivel, wither and disappear, to live for so long that time no longer makes sense and that the days are all the same, for centuries. Live all the wars, experience all the natural calamities. A solitude that digs in your chest for eternity.

But at least they are together.

And he knows that that pout, with which Alec is now staring at him, means just that. “Still, I wanted to celebrate. Your birthday is important to me”.

And Magnus just smiles, and nuzzles with his lips on his cheek. ”We did a lot of somersaults between the sheets, Alexander, I take it as a birthday present...”.

And Alec snorts and sits up, and the runes marking his skin seem to glow in the light of dawn. ”It’s the same, I forgot”.

“Well, you’ve been busy,” answers Magnus. “In the very busy sense, really... you should sleep a little more, there’s no hurry. The Consul agreed to let me stay here for another couple of days and... to be honest, I would like to sleep a little longer, too”.

Alec pouts a bit more. Pursing his lips and narrowing his gaze on him.

“I don’t need a birthday party, every day with you is a party! We should just celebrate more the other days…” Magnus adds smiling.

Alec looks at him, his eyes still severe, marked by an impossible fatigue. “I will cry out,” he then tells him, very serious, his voice thick and deep. ”I’m going to cry. I’ll scream. I’ll tear my hair out”.

And Magnus swallows. And then he smiles softly. ”Well, that’s what you did in bed with me a not so long ago”.

And he sees it, that half smile that reaches out to his lips. But then Magnus finds a cushion sprawled mockingly on his face. ”I’m serious here. If anything should happen to you, I will cry, I will scream, I will tear my hair out”.

And he, after a long moment of silence, while trying not to feel that lump in his throat that he tried to melt even before his training with his slightly dirty joke, he moved the pillow and looked at him. “I’m serious too. Something like that is not gonna happen, my love. I’ll make you cry only in the bed. You’ll just scream for pleasure with me. I promise you, Alexander”.

He looks at him, in silence for a moment. “You can’t know”.

And Magnus moves to push him back onto the mattress, covering him almost entirely with his body. “Oh, do you doubt my abilities in bed?” he says sneaking closer and kissing the tip of his nose.

And Alec laughs and his eyes shine ”You’re terrible,” he comments.

“You also love me for this,” he replies.

The Shadowhunter looks at him, smiling softly, with satisfaction, with an affection that every time it takes Magnus’ breath away. “Absolutely”, he adds then, yawning.

“How about sleeping a little more?” he whispers.

“We ’ve been together for a lifetime, I know what you mean to sleep, Bane .” Alec replies, leaning forward to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

“You Lightwood-Bane, how did you candidly remark last night.” he says. “And then I’d be the terrible one...”.

Alec yawns again and tighten his grip on him a bit more “I would say that maybe we’ll go for _my idea_ of sleeping”.

It takes probably less than a minute for Magnus to fall back on him.

 

* * *

 

 

When Magnus wakes up again, the bed is empty. The light that leaks from the texture of the curtains is more decisive, warmer.

He hears noises, little noises crackling up the stairs, coming from downstairs.

And maybe he hears Alec talking softly, with someone.

And of course, if he has to go down he must at least get dressed, that it would be strange to be caught buttocks in wind by some Clave delegate.

He pulls on a sweater that perhaps wasn’t so faded originally and that certainly was a Christmas present for Alec, since it’s still possible to see reindeer intertwined in wool, then he retrieves his pants, shoes and heads for the steps.

There is a set table there. In the tiny living room of the ground floor. Not for two, but for four people. And clearly Alec tidied up the delirium that was in the house the night before, that Magnus could have arranged with a snap of his fingers, to think about it.

But then he sees it, the curly crown of blue curls emerging from the kitchenette with a large tray filled with French toast. And Max looks up and smiles at him, two cone-shaped hats covering his horns dorkily. “Hey, Papa! A very merry un-birthday! “.

Rafael also emerges from the kitchen with a trumpet in his mouth and a cone-shaped hat on his head, which doesn’t seem to make him extremely happy but then he looks up at him and smiles, and blows in the trumpet.

Alec is behind them, with this awkward and a little sly smile, coffee and cups on a tray that he soon puts on the table. ”Happy un-birthday” he says then, holding out his hand to let him go down the last three steps .

“When did you organize all this?” Magnus asks gesticulating to the table and the kids.

“While you were sleeping” he replies. “At least a late breakfast with your children for your non-birthday...”.

And Max is the first to hug him. ”Technically it was our idea... we’re back in New York in time to wish you happy birthday, but well...”.

“Uncle Jace told us you were here.” Rafael nods. ”And since we didn’t want to break in here... and maybe...”.

“Interrupt some of your activities,” Max nods, leaning over to recover something from the ground while Magnus continues to look at them in disbelief.

“We thought it would be a fairer thing to come here in the morning, and bring your gift with us,” adds Rafael, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “We know that the house is empty without us...”.

“So, we thought to get you this” Max sputters from behind Rafael’s back. “Close your eyes, don’t peek, Papa”.

Alec moves behind him and covers his eyes with his hands, his fingers intertwined to create a real barrier. Magnus closes his eyes and feels Rafael’s hands, unmistakable because already covered with calluses for the continuous handling of weapons and musical instruments, grasp his.

And then there’s something in his hands. A something that breathes, that moves. Which maybe is flickering a little.

Alec moves his fingers from his eyes and Magnus looks down. A kitten. A striped grey kitten with a big golden bow at the neck, probably bigger than the whole cat.

“We thought that the best name for him was  _Sandocat_...” murmurs Max.

“Sandocat, the tiger on the sofa” adds Rafael. 

And Magnus is a bit proud of himself for having rised those two smart boys. “Did you know that?” he then asks Alec, wounded in pride, while the little head of the kitten is brought before his eyes. And yes, Sandocat is clearly the right name for him. “That is all this is your evil plan to make me a cat-lady?!”.

“You already are” deadpans Alec kissing the back of his head. “It’s time to eat, otherwise  all my culinary effort gets cold!”.

“Save the R-rated stuff for when we leave.” Rafael comments taking a seat at the table.

“We bring the kitty with us, otherwise you’ll traumatize him.” Max adds.

And while Alec snorts, Magnus can’t be happier than that. More happy not to celebrate his birthday, and to celebrate it a little bit in reality, but moreover to celebrate every day with them.

Because he has everything he needs there, he just needs to stretch out his hands and find them. His family.

And with a little effort, he will really be able to make Alexander cry only in bed and of joy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> if you've arrived this far, you're my favourite person!  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Being honest this is my first real attempt at something with mild (very mild) sexual content, but I wanted to try.  
> I may not be very satisfied with the end, but I needed to write this down because it repeated in a loop in my head for the past few days.  
> And I hope you liked it!  
> Thank you again, and please feel free to leave a kudo, a comment or give me feedback.


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